


The Hex pt. 2

by RockSaltandCherryPie



Series: The Hex [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fem!Sam, Female Sam, Gen, Implied Sibling Incest, Kissing, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Plotty, Post Season 9, Sibling Incest, Temporarily Female Sam Winchester, Wincest - Freeform, Witches, female!Sam, implied wincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 06:46:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1500746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockSaltandCherryPie/pseuds/RockSaltandCherryPie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam/"Jamie" and Dean go to the Gala, Sam's web of lies gets bigger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hex pt. 2

The next morning, Jamie was gone and Dean had several missed calls. None of them were from Sam. They were all from people he had called yesterday saying they couldn't help. Go figure. Sometimes Dean really wished they had more connections. One of his messages was from Crowley, saying he briefly looked into it but he had some sort of crisis in hell to take care of that was more important. Dean almost tossed his phone.

So he was really on his own here. Well, not including Jamie... But she was beginning to weird him out or piss him off or both... And he didn't know where she was or if she was even coming back.

Dean had pretty much decided to go out and retrace their steps from yesterday—figuring there must have been _something_ , a clue or _anything_ , that he missed—when Jamie came back. Dean watched her, her brown mop bouncing with her step, two big bags on her arms. He was kind of surprised she returned.

"Where were you?"

"Out for a run. Oh, and I made a few stops. Realized I couldn't show up to the Gala in jeans." She huffed as she threw the bags down on one of the tables. Dean hadn't noticed before, but she also carried a tray with two coffees. She took one out, nonchalantly offering it to Dean.

Dean eyed it skeptically.

"What?" She asked, extending it further. "It's coffee, Dean."

Dean didn't take it. Instead, he backed away a little. She looked confused.

"Look, I don't what your whole plan is here, why you're so adamant on going to this little Gala, or how you know so much, but it's starting to freak me out."

She shook her head. " _Dean_ , what're you talking about?"

"And stop it. Stop saying my name like that. Like we know each other."

She swallowed and looked down.

"Look, I know you don't give a shit, but I have to find my brother, okay?" Dean started to back away more, about to just leave and continue this on his own. "I gotta..."

" _Dean,_ " she started, then cleared her throat. "Dean. Please. Look. I know you want to find your brother. I do. But I _promise_ you, this is the way to do it. Think about it. It's our only lead."

Dean's jaw clicked, looking from her eyes to the coffee on the table. She had a point.

"You can't just go out there guns blazing. It's not enough this time. We have to do this."

Dean wanted to ask her what the hell she meant by _this time,_ but he got a whiff of the coffee and he walked over and took it because he knew she was right. He wasn't going to find Sam by driving around in the impala all day wasting time. She smiled as she watched him take a sip from the styrofoam cup before retrieving her own and sitting down at the table, looking rather smug.

 

xxx

 

The Red Heart Awards Gala started at seven o'clock. At six, Dean slipped on his tux and adjusted his bow tie in the mirror in his room, using a light gel to slick his hair back. He dabbed some cologne on his neck. He hadn't gone anywhere under cover in a while, and even though he hated dressing up, it felt kind of good at the same time. He just _knew_ if Sam was here he'd make some sort of clever remark about his bow tie, but he had found it in one of the drawers in his room when they first discovered the bunker and had just been waiting for an excuse to wear it. He'd be lying if he said he didn't feel a little like Sean Connery.

When he came out of the room, Jamie was sitting at one of the tables waiting for him, slipping on a pair of black pumps.

"Ready?" He asked her, casually walking up.

She huffed, fidgeting with the straps on the shoe. She didn't look up so she didn't see Dean's eyes involuntarily travel up her long, smooth legs.

"Need some help?" Dean smirked, leaning down in front of her, at her feet.

"No, I'm fine."

But her hands stilled when Dean's went over hers and she pulled them away. He carefully slid the strap through the buckle (in her defense, the strap was a tad too thick for the buckle) and fastened it closed. The other one was already done up.

"Thanks," she said, tugging her ankle away and standing.

Dean stood too and brushed himself off. She spun around awkwardly, plucking this little handbag off the table. Everything on her was black. Sleeveless black dress. Black shoes. Black purse. It suited her well. She just looked like she didn't wear this kind of stuff too often. Her hair was tied back in a neat(er) ponytail, no stray strands obscuring her eyes. Dean could tell she wasn't even wearing makeup, but her eyes were dark around, intense like she had a thousand secrets, and her lips were naturally rosy.

"You look... good," Dean told her, watching her step forward and almost fall over. She clutched on to the table.

Smiling weakly, her lips drawn up tight, she uttered out a "thanks."

"So... How do I look?" Dean gave her his best grin. It had been so long since he went out with a girl, he had almost forgotten what it was like. Not that this was a date or anything. Because they were just two hunters on a case. It was kind of sad, really. Because he used to be really good at this. But the past year had just been nonstop chaos he hadn't even had time to think about _himself_ , let alone a woman.

She looked up at him finally, adjusting the bottom of her dress, and gave him a pathetic smirk. "Nice bow tie."

Dean looked down at it and frowned.

"Come on, it's an hour's drive," she said.

He watched her walk away, trying with each step to get a hold on the heels under her feet.

"Are you a lesbian?" He asked her, only half joking. "Cause you know, you should tell me now. Of course it'd be an absolute _shame_ if you were..." He picked up the keys to the impala on the table and started after her.

She only looked back at him like he was an absolute idiot and rolled her eyes.

 

In the car on the way to the Gala, Jamie kept fidgeting in the seat—with her dress, mainly. But she held the map and was doing a poor job of navigating.

"Stop it—what're you doing?" Dean glanced at her as she twisted her torso around.

"Sorry." It seemed like she wanted to say more but she stopped herself.

"Hold the map straight. I don't know where I'm going."

She huffed, turning it around in her hands. "Just turn left on—" she reached over across the dashboard and turned the little volume knob down, killing _Free bird_ right in the middle of the solo. "Turn left on Golden Acres."

 

The Gala took place in the heart of Burrowsville, at the Town Hall. Dean parked the impala on one of the street corners nearby and dug around in the trunk. Jamie's plan was to find whoever this Kaleb Marco character was and _talk_ to him at the party, gather information. Dean told her he never went into a hunt unprotected and unprepared, so he decided it'd be best to at least bring two .45's.

"Hey," he tossed her the gun as she was coming around the car and she caught it, barely looking, and walked down the sidewalk towards the street corner.

Dean shut the trunk, eyes following her skeptically. He didn't know why he was still so suspicious of her. She just... was too good at everything. That wasn't even one of his good throws. She probably should have dropped that. When he noticed her waiting for him at the corner, looking back and gesturing a "come on" with her head, he brushed off his reluctance and followed her. She looked like she was finally getting the hang of the heels.

 

When they went in, there was a concierge standing at the door checking people in. Oh my god, how could he have been so stupid? He hadn't even planned on this. Sam was usually the one that took care of this stuff. They were getting closer and they hadn't even prepared names.

"Mr. and Mrs. Genova," Jamie said nonchalantly to the concierge as they passed. Dean looked over his shoulder and saw the man nodding and checking them off on the list.

He looked over at her, half dumbfounded and half utterly impressed. He smirked, taking two drinks from one of the servers in a black tux.

"So we're married now?" Dean handed her one and she took it from him, watching him take a sip from his own.

"I unfortunately couldn't get a brother and sister." She took a sip from her glass, glancing around at the other guests.

" _Genova._ I like it. Sounds Ukrainian."

"It's Italian." She made a face that looked like she was resisting laughing at him.

"I knew that."

She nudged him. "Look."

He followed her eyes over to a man across the sea of bodies. The man was unusually tall, had black slicked back hair that was held by too much gel, and deep, sunken eyes. He was as white as his collared shirt.

"That Kaleb?" Dean asked.

When he looked at her, she nodded quickly. "I saw his photo on the Gala's webpage."

"How's this gonna work? We can't exactly question this guy in the middle of a crowded room."

She hesitated. "I'll go talk to him." She started to go.

"Wait, _what?_ You're just gonna go up to him and what, ask him kindly where his apprentice is? He definitely looks like the type of guy who'll just spill all of his juicy secrets to complete strangers."

Her jaw clicked, contemplating. Then she spoke close to him, hushed. "I'm gonna pretend I'm a witch. Anyway, I'm pretty sure everyone here is."

Dean looked around the room at all of the men and women in dresses and suits carrying on conversations and suddenly felt very out of place. She was probably right. Dean nodded.

"Try and find out why his bitches are taking people. But—subtlety is key."

She nodded, turning. Dean held her wrist. "And Jamie—be careful."

 

Dean sat at the bar at the back, keeping his eye on Jamie. He sipped his champagne anxiously, wishing there was someway to hear what they were saying. Kaleb stood, whiskey in hand, staring out over the crowd, while Jamie hovered beside him. Dean could see her uttering things to him, but all he did was nod really really slowly, not making eye contact.

Dean fingered the rim of his glass, watching them.

"Hey, Casanova," he heard someone say to his left.

He glanced over. She was blonde, had bright blue eyes and wore a red sleeveless dress and a flirtatious grin on her face.

"Uh, hey," Dean replied half-heartedly.

"Getcha another?" She offered, gesturing to his almost-empty glass.

"I'm good. Thanks." Dean noticed Kaleb turn in and place his hand low on Jamie's waist, whispering something in her ear.

"Ohhhh, I see." The blonde girl leaned against the bar and her eyes went to where Dean was looking, so obviously preoccupied. "You got a thing for brunettes, huh?"

Dean didn't respond. It wasn't that... It was just that...he was on a job. He didn't have time for flirtatious banter.

"No problem, I can take a hint." Dean glanced over and watched the girl walk away. When he looked back at Jamie he noticed her adjusting the bottom of her dress again when Kaleb looked away. Dean smirked and downed the last few sips of his champagne.

 

Ten minutes later Jamie walked across the floor where couples were dancing to some classical music, apologizing to a woman she bumped accidentally along the way. It looked like she was one of the youngest women here. And certainly the best looking. _And without a doubt the most annoying_ , Dean noted.

Her eyes were a little freaked out when she reached Dean.

"What is it? What did you find out?"

"Ok, so get this."

An elderly woman dancing glanced at them suspiciously. Dean got up and spun around Jamie. "Too conspicuous," he mumbled close to her ear. She turned around to face him.

"May I have this dance, m'lady?" Dean extended his palm.

She looked at it like it was growing fungus. "You wanna dance with _me?_ "

"C'mon, don't leave me hanging, here, _Mrs. Genova._ " Dean jerked his head toward the dance floor.

Skeptically, but with a hint of a smile playing on the corners of her lips, she took his hand and they joined the slowly swaying crowd. Dean put his hands on her waist, feeling the silky black material under his fingers and the curve of her body underneath. Her hands didn't know what to do. At first she went to rest them on his arms but then they awkwardly settled around his neck.

"So what did you get?" Dean said, hushed.

"Ok. _So,_ " she started, glancing over Dean's shoulder. "Kaleb's getting his apprentices to capture people so he can stay young forever. Go figure, right? But _—_ "

Dean scoffed. "Doesn't look like it's working."

"Exactly. The witch that took Sam was new at the spell and she kept getting it wrong. That means that—"

"Wait a second, what do you mean, _getting it wrong?_ You trying to tell me that she did something like that to Sam? Something like a wrong spell?"

She stiffened a little, swallowing. "I'm not sure."

Dean tongued his teeth, refraining from fucking blowing this Kaleb guy to pieces right here in the hall and demanding to know where his brother was. Not in that order.

The music stopped and a new song started up, faster violins chiming in.

"I'm sure Sam's fine. But I think Kaleb fired the witch. So to speak."

"So where the hell is Sam?" Dean asked, trying not to raise his voice.

"We'll find him. He's probably trying to find a way out of this as we speak."

Dean looked in her eyes. He didn't know why but he actually kind of believed her. Her piercing hazel eyes darted away under thick black lashes. He pulled her waist in a little because they were standing too far apart to be successfully slow dancing, and she pursed her lips awkwardly, looking anywhere but at him.

"So your friend... the one that went missing... he your boyfriend?" Dean asked, realizing they both shared a common ground. It wasn't a very fortunate predicament to be in, but he was starting to realize that he was being selfish, and that she was probably missing someone, too.

"Oh, no... He was...just a friend."

"Was?"

"Is."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear about that. I'm sure he means a lot to you."

"Why do you say that?"

"You're doing all of this for him, right?

"Oh. Yeah." She sighed, lowering her eyes. A brown lock fell out of her ponytail and in front of her eyes. Her brows started to curl up, this troubled look appearing on her face. "Dean..."

He watched her look up, felt her arms around his neck nervously fidgeting. She searched his face and then blinked, stepping back. "We should go."

That wasn't what she wanted to say and Dean knew that. But he didn't want to press on anything she wasn't willing to tell him yet.

"Ok." They had already gathered the information they needed from Kaleb and Dean was starting to feel dozens of watchful witch eyes centering in on them.

 

Jamie fell asleep in the car on the way back, her head leaning up against the window of the Impala. He kept glancing over at her, squeezing the steering wheel. She had taken out her hair and it draped messily over her face, and her shoes had been kicked right off as soon they had gotten in, and they lay disregarded in the footwell. Part of Dean wondered why and how she felt so comfortable around him, especially when he recalled last night when she had walked right by him in nothing but her underwear and tank top, but another part of him felt the same way with her. She felt like... family.

"Jamie..." Dean said after he'd parked the Impala in front of the bunker. "Jamie." He took the keys out of the ignition and twirled them in his fingers. She sure was a heavy sleeper. He reached over and gently nudged her shoulder.

"Jamie."

"Dean" was the first word on her lips as she stirred slowly out of sleep.

"We're here."

 

xxx

 

Sam's goddamn feet were killing him by the time they got back to the bunker. He had never been so uncomfortable in his life. Actually, there was that time Gabriel turned him into the Impala. That was pretty uncomfortable. Still, wearing a tight bra, a tight dress, tight underwear, and three-inch heels all night was right up there.

"I'm gonna hit the hay. You should too," he told Dean. Dean was taking his phone out and dialing a number.

"Thanks, mom."

Sam sighed, watching him turn his back to him. Dean held the phone to his ear with one hand while the other gripped the back of one of the chairs in the middle of the room. He waited, then, after a few moments, grunted out a "damn it, Sam!"

Sam's heart dropped a little in his chest as he watched Dean slam the phone down and scrub at his face.

He was lying to his brother. That's what this was. And they had explicitly agreed on no more secrets when it came to each other. It was starting to go too far and he hadn't even meant for it to. He had almost slipped and told him at the Gala, but the witch's voice resounded in his head and Dean would have completely lost it right there.

He had lied to him about what Kaleb had said, too. When he went to talk to him, he had told Kaleb he was a witch. That fraction of the story was true. But what he really wanted out of Kaleb was information on where his witches-in-training learned their spells from. He had scoured almost every file and book in the Letters' archive and had found nothing on changing your sex. Granted, the witch that cursed him _had_ spoken a phony spell, but there _had_ to be something somewhere. And Sam wanted in on a real witch's collection. Not to mention one that was hundreds of years old. And Kaleb had told him everything he needed to know.

At the Gala, he had held his shoulders high and strolled over to Kaleb. He freaked Sam out a little, with his cold black stare and stiff jaw and deathly grey skin.

"Kaleb Marco?" Sam had asked, casually standing next to him.

The man stood tall, even taller now that Sam was several inches shorter even on heels, and barely glanced at him as he nodded long and slow.

"My name is Jamie... Lannister." (Yeah, way too much Game of Thrones) "I'm interested in becoming one of your apprentices."

Kaleb raised his chin, then turned to him finally. His dark almost-black eyes sat above sunken in cheeks and Sam actually felt a cold shiver creep down his spine at the sight of him _staring_ at him.

"Are you?" Was all he said.

Sam swallowed, hoping to God witches didn't have some sixth sense or incredibly strong nose or whatever where they could smell the difference between a human and a witch. "I believe in learning from the best."

"Do you?" His voice was like the howl of the wind seeping through a broken window pane.

"I'd like to know what it involves."

"First you have to prove to me you're worthy. And then it involves rigorous study from my personal archive. Which, I can guarantee you, my dear, has any spell you could ever dream of casting and _more_. Much, much more."

"Sounds generous." So he was more like a teacher, really.

"I am a very generous man, when I see something that excites me..." His black eyes glimmered for a second, looming over Sam. Then Sam froze as Kaleb slid his hand down his waist and rested at the base of his spine. He felt Kaleb's whiskey-wet breath like an icy chill at his ear and he nearly shuddered.

"If you think you're ready to show me what you can do, come to 4765 Greeny Drive. And do _not_ mess it up."

Sam strained, desperately trying to keep his facial features from revealing his discomfort.

"Let's just say my last apprentice who messed up will be filling her belly with flies until she stops kicking."

Sam gulped, forcing a grateful smile, and darted away. He had gotten the information he was looking for.

 

But now this web of lies he was spinning was just getting bigger and bigger and Dean was still worried sick about him.

"Look," he started to say to Dean. "I'm pretty sure worrying about Sam like this isn't doing anyone any favors. Sam's a grown man." —He briefly looked down at his breasts, irony kicking in— "I'm sure he's fine. And I know he wouldn't want you to—"

Dean snapped. "Look, lady. No offense, but you don't know _shit_ about my brother."

_Whoops._

"I understand you're trying to make me feel better and all, but... It's just... It's not working." Dean clenched the back of the chair tightly, his knuckles almost going white.

Sam walked closer, guilt starting to rise up and tighten his muscles.

"If you want to help, just... Find us a new lead. I don't know."

Sam placed his hand on the table by Dean, trying to catch Dean's eyes. He was looking away.

"You're right. I'm sorry," Sam offered.

Dean's tired eyes were red and strained when he finally looked at him.

"There's nothing you can do right now," Sam spoke gently. "And I'm sure your brother knows how hard you're trying." It was so hard to speak to Dean like this. He could feel his throat clogging up, a stinging rising behind his eyes. It was all his fault.

Dean didn't say anything for a few moments, his eyes sinking low.

"We'll find him. I promise. Do you trust me?" Sam reached out and touched Dean's arm gently for added reassurance.

Dean looked at his hand briefly but then seemed to search his eyes. Dean nodded, slowly, and stepped closer. "Yeah..."

Sam felt Dean's hands rest tentatively over his hips. Sam swallowed hard, pressing back into the desk. His heart thumped rapidly in his ears. Dean pressed in, his breathing shaky and hesitant. Sam's stomach turned upside down when Dean pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. He felt the subtle scratch of Dean's stubble brush against his chin briefly and he was so taken aback he couldn't even move.

 _How could he be so_ stupid _as to let this go so far?_ He felt like the biggest idiot in the world and Dean was going to _kill_ him.

Dean was kissing him again, his soft lips slowly pressing in, opening. When Sam felt Dean's warm tongue against his he pulled away, lips quivering and heart stuttering uncontrollably. He was pushed up against the desk and hadn't even realized he was clutching it to support his rigid body. Dean retreated, stepping back.

"I'm sorry..." Dean said, voice faltering.

It was just horrible. This whole thing. He hated lying to Dean. He hated himself for making Dean feel like crap and he hated being a goddamn _girl._ He just wanted to be himself again. He felt like he was in some weird alternate reality, maybe fabricated by angels, toying with him for their own twisted amusement.

Dean backed away, running his palm over his mouth like he regretted what he did. He walked off without another word, toward his room.

Sam let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and forced his eyes shut because he just wanted to forget everything right now.

 

Lying on the hard bed of the guest room, Sam stared at the ceiling, his hands resting on his ribs. He finally caught his breath and shut his eyes. His hands slid up under his tank top, ran over his smooth skin. Hesitantly, they sat over his breasts and he bit his tongue, letting the pads of his fingers dig in to their fullness. He squeezed them in his palms until it hurt. He sighed, rolling his eyes and turning on his side.

He was going to tell Dean tomorrow.


End file.
